Latenight Monopoly Meetings
by theckel
Summary: “Granger,” Draco drawled, “Why in Merlin’s name are you playing Monopoly by yourself – and at three in the morning, no less?” fin.
1. red

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter One_

'**R**' is for  
**red **chance cards

* * *

A certain bushy-haired Gryffindor scoured the hallways, making sure no one was in sight, before creeping out her portrait-hole and sneaking down the stairs to a corridor on the fourth floor. This, she knew, was one place that even Filtch didn't bother to go. She took a short moment to be proud of herself, before quickly sitting down in a corner and pulling out the Monopoly set that was under her arm. She opened it, flinching slightly at the sight of the mess it had gotten into, then painstakingly proceeded to set up the board game, as if she had five other people with her (though, really, it was just one person). She was grinning as she pulled out her wand and cast a spell on the game, making it come to life. The four different pieces move to the 'go' square, Hermione placing her own there as well, as money flew out into five different piles. The dice rolled over to her, as if daring her to make the first move, and since she _was_ the one who had bewitched the game, she did.

She had only recently discovered the wonders of Monopoly. Just last week, at the Granger household, Hermione had been given a pristine set for her birthday. She read the rule book (as only Hermione Granger would) and quickly learnt how to play the game, becoming exceptionally good at it in the process. There were so many different strategies, so many different ways to play it, she loved it all. She'd brought up the game with Harry and Ron, of course, but she'd just gotten comments like, 'But 'Mione, I don't _want_ a green house!' and, 'how come I've _got_ to stay in Trafalgar Square?' It was a lost cause, really. So, she gave up on them and turned to the only other available person – herself.

She was so engrossed in the fact that the dog had just been sent to jail, that she didn't notice exactly one pale, blonde, Slytherin scowling at the board.

"Granger," he drawled, "Why in Merlin's name are you playing Monopoly –" he had a little struggle reading the name of the game over her shoulder "– by yourself – and at three in the morning, no less? You _do_ know that I may have to dock points from Gryffindor for being out after-hours." Honestly, she was so _strange_. Non-existent social life and a tendency to sneak out at night to play board games. Alone. He wondered if she was – what was that Muggle word for it? – right, _emo_.

"Ferret," she greeted back, keeping her tone even to hide her surprise (and annoyance) from showing, "and I'd have to take the exact same amount of points from Slytherin. And you know what Monopoly is?"

"You can't do that," he smirked, "I'm just enforcing the rules by punishing you. And of course I know how to play Monopoly." He was particularly proud of how he had delivered those last two lies.

"Good – then can you pass me a chance card?" Hermione said absently, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to.

"And touch your Muggle-infested belongings? I'd rather not," he replied, grimacing, "What's a chance card, anyway?"

"So you _don't_ know how to play. And you're such a sissy," she replied, putting on a face to mirror his own, "Why don't you just go away and leave me alone?"

"Because it brings me joy to annoy you. I _do _hate you, after all. And I can never sleep. What's your reason for playing out here without Potty and Weasel?"

"They're no fun," (she heard Malfoy mutter 'no surprise', but decided not to rise to that one) "and no one else knows how to play."

"So teach me," he said suddenly, without really intending to.

"Sorry – did I hear right? _Draco Malfoy _wants to learn how to play Monopoly – a _Muggle _game? That is, if you can even comprehend the rules."

"Cut the crap, Granger," he said, frowning at the way she had said his name, "either you teach me how to play, or you forever stay the way you are now – a filthy Mudblood with no friends." He could hardly back out now – and anyway, this would get under her skin, an added bonus.

"You don't really _seem _very eager to play at all, you git," she returned, full concentration on the game.

"Merlin! You're so sodding _stubborn_!" he sneered, at what he supposed was her face. It was rather dark.

"Fine," she said; if anything, to make him go away, "be here tomorrow at midnight. Now leave me alone."

"My pleasure, Mudblood."

"Ferret."

"Goody-two-shoes."

"Snob."

"Bush-head."

"Gelface."

"Bint."

"Git."

"_Hermione Granger_," he said, as if it were the worst insult in the world. Which in his books at that current moment, it was.

"I hate you," she hissed, as loud as she dared to.

"Feeling's mutual," and he disappeared.

Hermione sighed, no longer in the mood to play.

* * *

**an; **Well, here's my somewhat lame-ish shot at fan fiction. There'll only be seven chapters. After all, Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain. **Review**!  
21/01/10 edited.


	2. orange

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter Two_

'**O**' is for  
**orange **bills

* * *

The next night, Hermione set up her game only half-heartedly, though she still held a hope that it had all been a nightmare. After all, Draco Malfoy was not one to play Monopoly – was he? She whispered the incantation, bewitching the pieces and grinning like a little girl as the money flew to its respective owners. And just like before, he managed to somehow appear out of nowhere. Like in all those cliché stories. Hermione was particularly annoyed by it, really.

"After all these years, you're still amused by the littlest of magic," he mused, "But I guess that's what you get for being Muggle-born."

Hermione sighed, irritated, but refused to be riled up by him. If he wanted a battle of wit, so be it. She smiled secretly at the rhyme in her head. "Either you're here to play or here to reuse all the old insults that have built up over the years. They all stem from the same thing, really. You need to get some new material, Malfoy."

"Oh, if only you were worth it," he scoffed, "I'm doing good to the environment. What was the Muggle saying that's all over the place? Reuse, reduce, recycle. But the compost, even after it's recycled, always comes out as compost all the same. Pity, really."

"Did you just call me _compost_?" she asked, turning him.

He smirked. "Perhaps I did."

"You-you _git_! I'm pretty sure that people like _you_ are the ones who cause wars!"

"Granger, your 'witty banter' is turning to 'wet batter'. Come now, I've seen you do better," taunted Draco, his smirk growing, clearly enjoying himself.

Seeing that he was obviously having fun with this, Hermione just huffed, turning away from him. "Are you here to play or not? I'm not going to let you get to me."

"Are you positive on that last statement? I already did."

"Bollocks. You didn't get to me at all."

"You're a rotten liar, Granger."

"You're a sodding _prat_, Malfoy. Now, that's your money. We go around in a circle.."

Draco's face fell slightly, since her attention had clearly gone elsewhere, and she seemed ridiculously determined to not be annoyed. But nevertheless, he had never seen a game so.. colourful. And with so many different pieces. It would be safe to say that he was, in fact, curious about the game. He squatted down at the other end of the board, inspecting the metal pieces and playing with the paper bills, not really paying much attention at all to Hermione, which, suffice to say, frustrated her. Hermione liked being listened to when she was talking.

"And once you get all the colours, you have a Monopoly – Malfoy, are you even _listening_?" she asked him, frowning.

"Would you like a lie, or an honest answer?" he returned, scowling to mirror her expression.

"Ugh. I don't know why I even agreed to this. You've got the attention span of a five-year-old," she said tiredly, glaring at him.

"I'm not too sure why you did myself – but why are these notes orange?"

"What?" she asked, momentarily thrown off by his question.

"I _said_, why are they orange? These ones," he emphasised his point by flapping them in her face.

"Oh, they're worth five-hundred pounds," she replied, pushing the notes away.

"Merlin, Granger. You need to get your ears checked. I asked you _why they were orange. _Not how much they were worth. Isn't Muggle money that horrid shade of green?"

"It's a _board_ game, Malfoy," she said wearily, irritated by his know-it-all, snobbish attitude. _Honestly_, you would think that he was a little more mature, the way he acted, but once you really got down to it.. "You're no better than Ron or Harry," she thought aloud, not really intending to. Malfoy seemed deeply offended by this (which he was – considering that she had just compared him to Potty and Weasel, _and _put them on the same level, which was blasphemy).

"Fine then, let's play."

"You weren't listening!"

"I'll learn as we go along," he said dismissively, causing Hermione, again, to be irritated.

They started, after Hermione insisted on painstakingly telling him the rules, and finally, Malfoy was getting past his first round on the board (he was incredibly amused by 'the way Muggles decide where to go – you just have to throw polka-dotted dice!'). As he passed 'Go!', a huge grin of triumph spread across his face, as if he had just won the Quidditch Cup. Hermione couldn't help but stifle a giggle. His face soon fell, though, when he realised that he would only receive,

"Two-hundred? Are we talking Galleons, Sickles, or Knuts?" he asked, a frown on his face so serious that it was almost comical.

"Um," Hermione said, trying to think of a good way to put it, before giving up, "Sickles. Two-hundred Sickles."

"Two-hundred _Sickles_?" he asked sceptically, and then was silent for a moment, "That's only 11 Galleons and a little. My father makes more than that an hour!"

"Your father makes more than 11 Galleons an _hour_?" It was Hermione's turn to be sceptical.

"Well, not exactly, but close," he replied obnoxiously, "But hey – I'm richer than the Weasels, at least."

Hermione did not find this funny at all. "Listen – let's have a truce here. I won't make fun of your friends, and you won't make fun of mine."

To her surprise, the boy burst out laughing, and quickly tried to stifle it. "Weasel and Potty," he said, calming down, "are ridiculous and stupid – thus, I poke fun at them. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, have long gone past that point. I wouldn't bloody care if you insulted them. See the unbalance here?"

"Well then," she said, irritated by his logic, "would you like it if I called them lumps of meat with very little brain?"

"But you see, Granger, this is where the problem comes in. They _are_ lumps of meat with very little brain. It's like calling you a Know-It-All-Goody-Two-Shoes. They're facts – no longer worth anything," he smirked.

_... blast him, _she thought to herself.

* * *

**an;** Well, here's chapter two! Minor tweaks to chapter one, but you won't die if you don't read it. I'm sorry if this chapter doesn't really go anywhere, though it _does_ show (sort of) that Draco now knows how to play Monopoly. Oh yes - please, please point out grammar or spelling mistakes if you spot any. I do appreciate it. And also, I heard **reviewing **is pretty cool. ;D


	3. yellow

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter Three_

'**Y**' is for  
**yellow **pyjamas

* * *

The fork came down. And again. And again. And again. And a –

"Bloody _hell_, 'Mione!" Ron exploded, standing up. A few of the Gryffindors a looked up, startled by his outburst, Hermione included in the masses. "You've been stabbing at that piece of bacon ever since it got on your plate – which was at the _start_ of this sodding breakfast!"

"Ron.." Harry warned him, while Hermione returned to staring at the strip of meat, annoyed at herself for letting the stupid prat get to her. But..

"Am I a stubborn-know-it-all-goody-two-shoes?" she asked blankly, not letting any of her aggravation show through.

"Well.." Ron started, throwing Harry a desperate look at the unexpected question. The other boy just shrugged at him – this was his hole to dig out of. "I mean," he glanced at Hermione, testing the waters, and checking if it was safe to proceed. His observations told him to go on. "You kind of.. are – but in a _good_ way!" he added hurriedly, but this was lost to Hermione. Uh oh. Wrong observations; she looked livid. The if-looks-could-kill-you-would-be-dead kind of livid.

"The _git_!" she screeched dramatically, getting up and storming out of the Great Hall. The silence was only broken after someone coughed, and breakfast returned to normal.

**o**

Draco tapped his foot impatiently, not caring about the noise it was making. Where _was_ she? He'd been there since midnight – and it was now nearing one O' clock. So he'd called her stubborn, a know-it-all, and a goody-two-shoes – didn't she _pride_ herself in that? She'd called him a weasel, git, prat, snob, and a multitude of other things. She had _no_ right to be upset. If anything, _he_ should be the one camping out in his room and standing her up – which he was pretty sure what she was doing right now. And Draco Malfoy did _not_ like being stood up.

He left the corridor in a foul mood, and glared at the portrait while muttering the password, before going straight up to the room he knew to be hers and knocking impatiently on it. Finally, she opened it.

But only so she could slam the door in his face.

"Granger," he said dryly, not amused in the least, "slamming the door shut in the face of a person you've just stood up isn't usually the best way of apologising."

"Who said I wanted to apologise?" she returned, then added, "Sod off."

"I waited there for an _hour_," he growled, "one. Whole. Bloody. Hour – and you have the nerve to tell _me_ to sod off?"

He was angry – Hermione could tell. But he deserved it – didn't he? Hr was a horrible person, who had too much time anyway. She didn't feel guilty in the least for wasting it. Or not meeting him. He didn't appreciate her teaching him at _all_, that much was obvious. So, she wouldn't teach him. This was one of the only times that she felt that, as Head Girl, sharing a commonroom with only one other person was a bad thing. She crossed her arms – even though she knew he couldn't see it – ignored his question and called out, childishly, "Go away. What do you want, anyway?"

Draco hit the door. Hard. Stubborn _bint_! She was so _frustrating_! He heard her yelp at the sudden sound, which made him scowl even further. "To play Monopoly with you, you crazy woman!" he yelled, fuming. What was is about her that made him so _angry_? Oh, right – she was Granger. Huh. That was one of the easier questions. And _women_ – Merlin! Why did they have to be so irritatingly.. irritating?! Not to mention rude – this being one of the exceptional examples. And overly sensitive. He would have cursed down the door now, if it weren't for the fact that Dumbledore had put wards in place for the very reason that that might become necessary in a time such as this.

"Oh, so now I'm crazy, too? As well as stubborn? And –"

He cut her off before she could continue. "It's called a _joke_, Granger. You would know how to spot one if you stopped only hanging around losers like Potty and Weasel and actually tried to socialise," he snapped, not making any effort to keep the venom out of his voice. He wanted it to hurt – and hurt it did.

Hermione was shocked into silence for a few minutes, which she spent looking over her actions since last night, and she was horrified – truly horrified – to find that he was right. She had totally overreacted. She had made a _fool_ of herself, acted childishly. She had ignored a previous agreement. She was trying to guilt-trip him, but it was failing, somehow, and she was the one feeling guilty. And he bloody well knew it – she was sure of that, at least. And he was right about Harry and Ron, too. She should be building a better, bigger circle of friends (after all, good networking was one of the keys to success). Hermione knew she shouldn't care what _Malfoy_ thought of her, but she couldn't help it. She felt – Merlin, please let it be momentary – embarrassed.

Then, she realised, with a flicker of hope, she was not completely without fault. She opened the door slowly and deliberately, giving him time to compose himself, but when she finally saw him, it was not a look of regret and apology he wore – but a _smirk_! The bleeding git was _smirking_! And before Hermione knew it, or before Draco could react, her hand had flown out, producing a nice, good '_smack_!' as it came into contact with his skin. She would've been lying if she said that it had happened so suddenly – she'd had no idea what was happening. Truth was, Hermione had actually daydreamed about committing another act of violence towards him. But she certainly hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. She hid a smirk.

He staggered back, a mixture of horror and disgust on as he lifted his hand to shield his face from further attacks. Granger really _had_ lost it. He took a few breaths, reminding himself of the golden rule that one must _not_ hit girls, before turning back to Hermione, who looked about just as shocked as he did – just that she had triumph mixed in with hers. "What was _that_ for?!" he hissed angrily, cradling his injured face.

"Being a git," she answered simply, before turning back into her room to get out the game. Sure, she felt a little bad, but he deserved it. He ought to be put in his place, by her reckoning. This one move, she did not regret. It would teach him discipline. Then she realised something completely irrelevant – he was wearing a pair of yellow pyjamas. She'd never seen him in muggle clothes before. "And because you just pick on people who're weaker than you – you're like those bullies in all those leaflets!" she scolded while setting up the game.

"What.. leaflets?" he asked, looking confused, apparently ignoring the very obvious insult thrown his way. He didn't make a move to help with the preparation, instead choosing to cradle his injured face, which did not go unnoticed by Hermione.

"They're pieces of paper that muggles print things on," she snapped, not happy with his behaviour. He was like a troublesome, spoilt, child who didn't know any better – and the switch from the intense argument from before to this casual chatter was leaving her sorely confused.

"_What_ do they print on them?"

"Things about bullies!" she told him, "and _help_ with this, will you?"

"Why should I?" he asked quizzically.

"Because," she said, laughing inwardly at the irony of her coming statement, "It's common courtesy. People tend to learn that when they _socialise_."

* * *

**an; **After a wait which I can only describe as unreasonable, here's the next chapter. I really do apologise for the span of time, but writing fanfiction is harly on my highest list of priorities. But! I shall try my best to finish this. It's fun writing in their different prespectives. xD Do **review**! It makes the world go 'round.


	4. green

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter Four_

'**G**' is for  
**green **houses

* * *

The odd routine of getting up at midnight – or just staying up – and then meeting Malfoy in a dark corridor to play Monopoly, of all things, was taking its toll on Hermione. She felt more tired each day, and could barely pay attention in class. But, to her surprise, she found she didn't mind. After two weeks of.. socialising with him – for lack of a better word – she had found that he was quite intelligent, as a matter of fact. Some of their conversations could even be considered as enjoyable, really. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one, nonetheless. That was not to say that they were the best of friends – oh, the complete opposite. They still insulted each other at every chance, resorting to the lowest tricks, sometimes. They still smirked when the other fell, or blundered. They still argued. But, it was unfair to say that she didn't enjoy the banter, because, despite her better judgement, she did.

But now – _this_.

It was one's worst nightmare, another's dream.

One's hope, another's dread.

One's prevention, another's.. priority goal?

...

Draco was _winning_. Hermione could hardly believe it.

"That will be.." he paused for a moment, glancing down at the title deed, "one-thousand pounds. Plus a hundred. Hey – that's quite a few sickles!" He smirked at her, and she gritted her teeth in frustration. This was _unfair_. She had just gotten out of jail – and he was taking almost all her money. Just for landing on one space! Really! She scanned the board, looking for 'his' piece (he'd transfigured one of them into a smirking figure of himself, complaining that all of the normal playing pieces were 'too ugly'. It had an uncanny resemblance to what he looked like at this moment) and despairing as she found it on a railroad – which he owned. Was it just her, or had the smirk grown wider? Hermione growled and slowly took out the precious (and thinning) stack of money from where she kept it, and started counting the notes.

"Granger," he tutted in a sing-song voice, "we don't really have all day – or night – you know."

"Wait," she snapped back, "patience is a virtue."

Draco didn't reply, but the mocking smirk played over his lips. He knew it infuriated her – especially now that thanks to an unexpected stroke of luck, he was beating her at the very game she had taught him. He could only imagine how maddening that could feel. It wasn't that he _liked_ making her angry. He preferred the word _teasing_. Yes, she was fun to tease.. okay, he liked making her angry. Finally, she extended her hand, looking away dramatically, and shoved the notes into his. "Fine – take all the money I have!" she pretended to sob.

"Oh, come now," he replied in a prudish voice, playing along, "here. You can have one of these houses." He picked a random house off one of his properties and offered it to her like a gift.

"But – I don't like green!" Hermione burst out, bringing a hand to her forehead and pretending to faint. Draco studied her for a minute, not too sure if she was joking, or really serious. He couldn't tell, and in the end, gave up, palming the small plastic house in the process.

"Okay, I give up – were you serious?" he asked with a resigned sigh.

Hermione couldn't help but chortle at his tone. "Do you feel the need to get everything right? And yes, I was being serious."

"Of course," Draco replied arrogantly, "I'm a Malfoy, after all."

"You're a git," she chuckled, "but you're not. It's strange."

"You're a Mudblood," he returned, "but you're okay. It's strange."

It took a moment for them both to process what he had just said, but two very different trains of thought got set off by his off-hand comment. On Draco's side, it was more along the lines of something like; _Maybe I really am going soft. _But of course – that could not be possible, could it? He was a Malfoy! Malfoys were not _soft_. _Oh, bloody hell. Father'll have my head if he hears of this. _But of course – he would not, would he? More questions! How Draco _hated _the way they had a habit of popping up around Granger. In an effort to keep his calm 'facade', he rolled the dice wordlessly – scoring a twelve, which was enough to crash his train and get him to concentrate on the game once more.

Meanwhile, in Hermione's head, a significantly happier train was running. He had said something genuinely _nice_ – whether purposely or not, she was elated. So maybe he had called her a Mudblood – but he had said that it was _okay_. This was vast improvement. He was growing – learning! It was like watching a child apply newfound knowledge. To put it simply, it was rewarding. She knew that it was odd – weird, really – that she thought this way, but Hermione was a _nice_ girl. She _liked _helping, and she considered teaching this git how.. not to be a git, counted as helping. So, naturally, she was feeling more on the optimistic side. As the silver, smirking, Slytherin (say _that_ aloud) piece moved forward twelve spaces, passed 'GO', and landed on chance, Draco was about to draw a card, when Hermione stopped him, putting her hand in the way. He looked up at her, irritated. "What?" he asked, trying to get past her.

"You rolled doubles – roll again," she told him triumphantly.

"I don't know what you're so happy about," he muttered, grabbing the dice and tossing them again, "it's not a bad thing." Double fours – an eight. The piece plodded onwards to land on another railroad – also his. He took the liberty of reminding Hermione of his monopolisation of the railroads, "Oh, no need to pay. It _is _mine, anyway – and so are all the other four! Fancy that." She just glared at him, signalling that he should roll once more. He did so, not paying heed to the fact that it was his third roll. Double twos.

His playing piece flew to jail without a second to spare.

Draco stared at it wordlessly. "Wha – what happened?" he asked blankly, an expression he usually made a point of avoiding. It made one look like an idiot.

"You rolled three doubles!" Hermione cried smugly, "It's off to jail for you!"

He did not see the logic in this. "_Why_?" he huffed.

"You were speeding."

"I was not.. _speeding_," he said indignantly, "that's what muggles do."

"You're playing a muggle game," Hermione reminded him.

"Well, can't we.. bend the rules? To suit our more.. _wizarding_ style," he was making gestures in the shape of a globe, then turned to look at her hopefully.

"Of course not!" she declared crossly – and rather loudly, too. "That would be going against the game, and not to mention would be an infringement of copyright law!"

"You do know," he said sceptically, "that I don't have any idea what you're talking about?"

"Obviously," she sniffed, calming down, "a ferret like you brought up in that awful household of yours wouldn't know anything about normal rules of society – or morals."

"At least I was brought up in a _decent_ household," Draco shot back.

"Decent meaning full of horrible people? You may have explicit manners, Malfoy, but you hardly ever apply them," Hermione told him in a lecturing tone.

"That's because there's no one _worthy _of my 'explicit manners'," he sneered. They had both forgotten that they were, in fact, in the middle of Hogwarts, playing Monopoly, at three in the morning.

"_What_?" she gasped, visibly stung.

Neither of them heard Filch coming. "Well, well," his voice broke through, "what do we have here?"

He emerged from the darkness, holding his lantern, with Mrs Norris at his side. Not exactly a pleasant sight when one is obviously breaking the rules – or when one is the Head Boy or Girl and supposed to be enforcing the aforementioned rules. No, not a pleasant sight at all.

"I thought he didn't come here!" Draco hissed, trying to mask his surprise. Failing.

"He _doesn't_!" she whispered back, "One of us was obviously too loud!"

"Are you referring to yourself?"

"Hmm, let me think about that for a – I'm talking about _you_, you dimwit," she told him in a dry tone.

"Well, next time, make it more _clear_ for us dimwits, will you? And, by the way, do you lose strategy games to dimwits regularly? Then, I have no idea what _you're _classed under," he replied.

"Why, you _insufferable_ –"

"Stop whispering amongst yourselves!" Filch commanded, coming towards them, "Stand up – it's the office for you!"

She yelped as she was pulled to her feet. They had to think of something. Fast. Maybe –

"Green house?" Draco asked hopefully, proffering the piece to Filch. The caretaker stared at him. Yes, this one had definitely lost it.

Hermione felt like kicking herself.

* * *

**an; **I'm on a roll here - but don't expect it to last long. xD I've got the next chapter planned out, though, and it all comes down to writing it out. Now, I hope you enjoy this chapter. And, what was that? Oh, you want to **review**? By all means - go ahead!


	5. blue

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter 5_

'**B**' is for  
**blue** gumballs

* * *

Snape was not amused. "Malfoy," he said, scowling, "what did you think you were doing?"

Trying his best not to seem guilty in any way, he looked his head of house in the eye, before replying. "Playing Monopoly," he told him vaguely.

"And what, boy, is Manuhpohly?" the professor asked impatiently.

"It's a game, sir," Hermione butted in, earning an elbow to the rib from Draco. She shot him a glare, and he returned the look with equal vehemence. "Educational, might I add," she said importantly.

It was Draco's turn to feel like kicking himself. Snape wouldn't let them off because it was _educational_. Quite the opposite, really. He'd only take more pleasure in punishing them. As if wanting to prove Draco right, Snape started to smirk, much like the way Draco usually did, but considerably... less good-looking, as he liked to think. "Educational or not, I don't think that excuses the Head Boy _and _Girl for breaking the rules," he told them smugly, pulling out a chair behind his desk, sitting down, and knitting his hands together in front of him. "As punishment," he continued, "I'm going to have to dock points from Gryffindor _and _Slytherin – as well as detention for you both. Extended, for Mr. Malfoy." Draco gaped at him, outraged. Sometimes he wondered if Snape really did belong to his house.

"Professor –" he started.

"Sir –" Hermione protested at the same time.

They exchanged a frown while Snape looked on, amused. Finally, Hermione took charge, gesturing to Malfoy to 'keep your bloody mouth shut'. She had a last idea that just might work, and she depended on him to not interrupt and play along. For the first time ever, he got her silent message, and closed his mouth, albeit reluctantly. "You see, Professor Snape, we've been given this project by Dumbledore," she said, re-enacting her business-as-usual self, "it's very important. We're to teach some of the other seventh-years the game. Dumbledore thinks it would be.. good to have some exposure."

Snape hesitated; he respected the headmaster very much (to an extent you wouldn't _believe_) but this story just seemed.. slightly fishy. "And why haven't I heard of this?" he asked the two students, narrowing his eyes at them.

Hermione flailed, trying to think up of something, her eyes darting all over the place and looking _painfully _obvious. And Draco had thought she'd had things under control. He sighed tiredly, and to Hermione's surprise, decided to come to her rescue – though in a less romantic way. "You're the _Potions_ Master," Draco told him, placing rather cruel emphasis on his title (which wasn't very important at all), "and it was given to us.. yesterday. I hardly think Dumbledore would have wanted to waste your _precious_ time in such a way."

The professor sneered at his student, who had just become all the more obnoxious and arrogant since he'd been appointed head boy. Dumbledore thought it would've helped him learn responsibility; humble him a bit. Snape scoffed. As _if_. He could hardly stand the boy. "Very well," he said finally, though still suspicious, "both of you shall return to your sleeping quarters for the rest of the night. I'll check with Dumbledore to 'verify' your claims." He dismissed them, and the pair made their way out into the corridor, where Hermione immediately rounded on him.

"What was _that_ for?" she huffed, crossing her arms and blocking his way, "I had everything under control – there was no need for you to help!" She was embarrassed that he'd had to, though she'd never tell him _that_. It would just make his over-inflated ego even bigger. Nevertheless, she wasn't known for being stubborn for no reason, and so felt the need to protest, despite the fact that she knew she had no right.

Apparently, Draco knew all this, too, and wasn't too amused by it. "Oh, sod it all, Granger," he sneered, annoyed that she still had the gall to keep up that act, "we all knew that you were flailing horribly. Give it up, and accept that you've lost."

"O-of course not! I haven't lost anything!" she insisted, "if you had just given me another sec–"

"Granger," he growled, his eyes blazing, "shut. Up."

And to both of their surprises, she did.

**o**

Meanwhile, Snape had just entered the headmaster's office, where he found Dumbledore. Which was odd, really, since it was in the wee hours of the morning; but Snape didn't ponder on this. He was a man on a mission. "Albus," he greeted, taking a seat.

"Severus," the man returned, looking over his famous half-moon glasses (must be quite uncomfortable – having to do that all the time), "what news do you bring at this perculiar time?"

The Professor shuffled uncertainly under the headmaster's gaze, but composed his thoughts. "Did you assign a.. _project_.. to the two head prefects?"

Dumbledore mused for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. "You'll have to be more specific, I assign them a lot of projects; I'm an old man, Severus. I forget things. Details! Details!"

Snape frowned slightly, not wanting to give away _too_ much (for fear that his suspicions were right, and the headmaster would just piggyback on the information he gave him to back his head prefects – he'd done it before, after all), but relented in the end. "They are supposed to teach the seventh-years a game called.. Muhnoopolies?" he said, watching the headmaster closely.

Poor Dumbledore was utterly confused, but he knew that something must have happened to spark this odd investigation by Snape, and he was keen to find out what it was. "Were they working together on this Muhnoopolies project when you saw them?" he asked, trying to look as convincing as possible. He'd have to find out what this game was – though he suspected it was something Muggle (after all – what an odd name! You never found names like _that _in the wizarding world, by his reckoning), which only intrigued him further. What would make Draco Malfoy do something involved with Muggles?

Snape narrowed his eyes, now almost completely sure that the old wizard was making things up as he went along. "Yeees.." he said slowly, trailing out the word.

"Oh, of course! I remember now! Yes, the Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger teaching the seventh-years how to play Muhnoopolies," he exclaimed extravagantly, a twinkle in his eye (which I, personally, could never see), "why, yes, Severus, they were indeed working on that. Please excuse them from whatever wrongdoings they may have done."

"Wh-what? Sir, you don't even know what they've done yet!" Snape protested, getting up.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. "It's something completely trivial like staying out too late, isn't it, Severus?" his tone was mildly accusatory, with a hint of amusement.

Snape glowered at the headmaster silently, who chuckled in response. "Well, I'll make sure that they don't do it again," he said curtly, before sweeping out of the room. Dumbledore watched him go, reminding himself to have a talk with his heads (hah. Think about that sentence).

**o**

"We should really see Dumbledore," Hermione insisted as the two of them re-entered the portrait-hole, after making a detour to collect the board game from the corridor where they had last left it.

The boy didn't answer, but flung himself onto the couch, lazily draping his arms over it. He'd given up trying to convince her not to go; after all, the worst that could happen was docked points and detention – which he already had. "Do what you want," he replied sleepily, closing his eyes for a moment.

"No, but really, Malfoy," she insisted, though he wasn't really putting up much of a 'fight' anymore, "if Snape really did go – which I think is highly possible – we'll be in so much trouble."

"Granger," he groaned, trying to block out her voice, "just _go_, if it bothers you that much."

"But.." she hesitated, not willing to tell him that she wanted him to follow her. It felt nicer roaming the halls of Hogwarts not totally alone, and she was less likely to end up screaming over something small like a spider that had spooked her. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was already asleep, but after all her bothering, she couldn't possibly _not_ go. Her pride wouldn't allow it.

"Make up your mind," he told her impatiently, getting up and heading to his own room, hand hovering over the doorknob.

"Fine then, what's the password?" she asked, planning to go into her own room afterwards. After all, he would never know.

"Blue gumballs," Draco replied, before opening it and gratefully retreating to his bed.

Hermione followed him with her eyes, then stomped loudly over to the portrait-hole, noisily opening and closing it (much to the displeasure of the sleeping painting), then tiptoed as quietly as she could over to her own room.

The door opposite opened while hers close, and Draco poked his head out, smirking while his suspicions were confirmed – she hadn't gone.

* * *

**an; **Well, I figured that since it was my birthday today, I should be extra good, and do all the things I've been procrastinating on. Obviously, this didn't work out too well, but at least you guys get this update! And, as a birthday present, you could **review**. ;D


	6. indigo

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter Six_

'**I**' is for  
**indigo** sogidnis

* * *

"Half an hour more!" the potions master declared grandly, swooping to the front of the classroom, where a large hourglass stood on the desk, and eyeing all of his students with a smirk on his face. He sent this look strongly to one student in particular, a certain Hermione Granger, who had cheesed him off quite a bit with her getting out of trouble two days ago. Good thing she seemed to be terribly confused – didn't study the day before, no doubt. He watched in cruel amusement as her gaze flicked from one ingredient to another, obviously flustered. Hah. He had her _this_ time. Even one so skilled in the art of frustrating other people, Dumbledore, could not argue with the logic of a failed test.

Snape, however, was not the only one who had noticed Hermione's dilemma. It was quite obvious, really. She usually had an air of confidence surrounding her when she went about doing her tests and assignments, and enjoyed being ahead of everyone else (she almost gave off a Draco-like aura during these moments in time). This instance, however, she seemed just as confused as a certain Ron Weasley next to her, who had given up trying to copy Hermione. And having Ron Weasley think that you're not going to make it was _harsh_.

Draco spent a little more time than was necessary debating between helping her, or not. For one thing, they were definitely on better terms now, but he secretly wished to see her do badly on a test. Another thing in the way was that if she _did_ do badly, she would be moody for _Merlin_ knew how long. Finally, with a sigh of resentment, he scribbled a quick note on to a piece of parchment, before scrunching it into a ball and flicking it onto the middle of her textbook (with the help of his wand, of course – people who have enough aim to land a tiny piece of paper in the middle of a textbook on the other side of the classroom while keeping a look out for the teacher should be shot, because that would be bloody unfair), where she eyed it with suspicious curiosity. Draco groaned in exasperation.

Hermione picked up the little ball of paper and inspected it, before looking around with clueless expression on her face. Unable to find the sender, and getting slightly huffy at whoever had been trying to bother her, she held the offending ball in one hand, and got her arm about half-way up before another piece of parchment bounced off her head. How ludicrous! There was actually someone who was contributing to her already-huge amount of misery. And she had quite the idea of who it was. Her hand came down for a second and she turned her head to shoot a glare at Malfoy, who she was sure was intent on seeing her fail. To her surprise, when he saw that she'd turned to him, he started mouthing something and gesturing like.. well, like a ferret, honestly. Having a seizure. Hermione narrowed her eyes at his immaturity, and shook her head disapprovingly, trying to send him the mental message to '_Stop _it before Snape notices!'. Much to her dismay, he continued having his ferret-esque seizure, and she started to feel slightly worried for him.

Mouthing the words 'open it' and gesturing frantically to the small article in her hand in vain, Draco started getting the gist that Granger didn't really get the message when she failed to deliver the nod and the I-get-what-you-mean-thanks look which he'd been expecting. Finally, he resorted to the crudest of cheating methods. Thankfully, everyone was concentrating too hard to notice what would soon be a very humiliating experience.

The wave of relief that had washed over Hermione when Malfoy returned to his own work faded as he held up a piece of paper to her. On it, in big letters, was the word – what _was _that word? Hermione squinted and was barely able to make out the word 'sogidni'. What was he _doing_? Sighing, she picked up her own quill and scrawled on a small piece of parchment;

_what the bloody hell is a sogidni?!_

Draco, who had thought she had gotten it _at last_, felt like smacking his head when he read her note. He hadn't gotten what she was talking about, at first, until realisation dawned on him. He'd held the sign up _upside-down_. But wasn't she supposed to be smart?! He would have found the events comical, if he'd seen them from another's point of view, but he was the one going through it, and so he instead felt like strangling anyone who could be laughing at their current predicament. _Why _did she have to be so _innocent_? It was as if she'd never cheated on a test before! Oh, hold on a minute. She probably hadn't. Right.

**o**

The minute they were released out into the hall again and got out of the dungeons, Hermione pulled Malfoy aside, roughly grabbing his elbow and shoving him behind a pillar. "What little stunt were you _trying_ to pull in there, Malfoy?" she wailed quietly, "Were you just trying to make me feel even _worse_ than I already did? I had no idea what I was _doing_!"

"Obviously," he huffed, irritated at her whining, "I was trying to _help_ you – tell you that you had to put _indigos_ in. You were just too _stupid _to realise." The last part hadn't really been necessary (since he _had _held up that sign the wrong way around), but it helped him recover some of his own dignity.

There was a pause. "Oh."

"Oh," he repeated dryly, mocking her.

"Yes, well. The – the Heads shouldn't be cheating, anyhow," Hermione said feebly, feeling quite the foolish.

"Oh, come off it," Draco scoffed back, "you know you wouldn't have cared, since it would've helped you pass."

"Who says I'm not going to pass?" she said defensively, "And no, I _would_ have cared. Cheating is _wrong_. Besides, I was doing fine."

"_Everyone_ saw you panicking, Granger," he drawled.

"Just.. sod off," Hermione snapped childishly, then added, "git." Before turning around and walking away, unable to admit that he was probably right. Draco watched her go and sighed, knowing that her moodiness would probably start even _before_ they got their results back.

**o**

True enough, that night during their usual game of Monopoly, Hermione hardly said a word, which just infuriated him beyond belief. True, she was annoying when she talked, but she was even _more_ annoying when she didn't – just because he had no idea what she was thinking. She didn't even bat an eyelid or offer a 'This isn't going to set me back,' statement when her piece got sent to jail. "So.." he started, "I do believe I'm going to win this one." No reply. "Do you have any amazing methods to counter a person with three monopolies?" No reply. "Food at breakfast was nice today, wasn't it?" No reply. "I think it just might snow." No reply. "Bloody hell – there's a hippogriff!" No reply. "TALK TO ME, WOMAN!" he half-yelled (half, because he was afraid Filch would come) at last, waving a hand in front of her face. She straightened up, shocked at his sudden outburst, and blinked a few times, but still didn't say anything. Draco sighed. He'd learned from her that wisecracks and comebacks were not all that went through conversations with girls and that you could actually speak to them normally (fancy _that_!). But how did you speak to one when she wasn't sodding replying?!

Meanwhile, Hermione was ignoring all his frail attempts at conversation because of the sole fact that she felt like if she talked, she'd end up bawling about failing a test. She'd _never_ failed a test. Ever. On the other hand, she appreciated his efforts to cheer her up, or at least distract her. Ron and Harry just hadn't understood. "Sho wot ef you fail a tesht, 'Mione?" Ron'd said, with his mouth full.

"Yeah," Harry added with a sympathetic look, "I mean, it's just one test. And anyway, you ace everything else."

She didn't bother to explain. They were her dearest friends, but weren't exactly the smartest in the school, and so didn't really understand what it meant to _fail_. She rather liked to think that Malfoy did, though, since he obviously held _some_ level of intelligence (this, however, is still an unconfirmed fact). Said boy was still shooting out random sentences in an attempt to get her to become a social being again, so Hermione decided that she may as well make a little effort. She chewed her lip as she decided what to say, something that wouldn't lead to that day's potions test. "What's your favourite Bertie Bott's flavour?" she asked suddenly, which wasn't actually something she'd meant to say. She'd been looking for something for sophisticated and intelligent. Damn.

"What?" he asked in surprise. That hadn't been what he had been talking about, but it was a start, so Draco answered the strange question. "Toast," he told her, after a short pause.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Why? It's so.. normal."

"I'd take normal over paint or diesel," he returned.

"Point taken." Though she didn't really understand why it was a _favourite_.

Silence ensued.

"So. What's yours?"

"My what?"

"Favourite flavour, moron. Keep up."

"Milk," she sniffed, then saw his face. "What?" she asked defensively, "I like milk."

"I didn't say anything," he said, amused.

"You looked like you were going to."

"But I didn't."

Hermione couldn't argue with that logic, so changed the subject. "Favourite food?"

"Biscuits. Favourite drink?"

"Juice. Favourite board game?"

"Cheater. There's only Monopoly."

"There's chess."

"Fine, Monopoly. Favourite book?"

"Too many. Favourite animal?"

"What kind of question is _that_?"

"Just answer it, Malfoy."

"Squirrels."

Hermione burst out in a fit of giggles.

"What?" he huffed.

She considered saying, 'I didn't say anything,' but decided against it. "You.. like.. _squirrels_?"

"Yes. Problem?"

"Nothing." But she couldn't hide the grin.

And so this unofficial Game of Favourites went on into the night, and Hermione found herself relaxing at last, in the least place she'd thought possible. The company of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**an;** Eh heh heh.. yay?  
I'm sooooooorryyyyyyy. T.T I know I fail so badly at updating. It's been on my to-do list for so long, but I just couldn't think of what to write so I could end it the way I wanted. D:  
And I _know_ that this chapter is kind of boring and stuff, like a bad filler or something, but please spare me. I promise I'll try (_try_) to get the next chapter up. I just can't decide if I should make a sequel or not.  
Please, please, please **review**! You know it makes my day. :3 And for those of you who are reading but not reviewing, thank you, too! :D

**edit; **_Thank you_ everyone who favourited/alerted this! xD I just checked my email. You guys are _rad_. :D  
And the main point why this is here - I just realised that there're only two ways I can end this to satisfy this fic as 'romance', and to make people happy. xD  
a) I write a disgustingly long last chapter.  
b) I write a sequel.  
I _much _prefer b, but I figured it would be good to see what other people think. Write in a review/PM what you prefer (and why, if you're nice). :D


	7. violet

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Chapter Seven_

'**V**' is for  
just **violet**

* * *

Due to their impromptu Game of Favourites, last night's Monopoly meeting had lasted far longer than usual – much to Hermione's displeasure. She had to admit though, it'd been interesting. However, the lack of sleep had put her in a sullen mood and that morning at the table, all she wanted to do was bury herself back in her comfortable bed. For a brief moment, she wondered if there was a spell that could make you sleep with your eyes open. "So, 'Mione," came Ron's voice, breaking into her thoughts. "I finished _all_ my essays the other night," he declared proudly, obviously waiting for some form of congratulation.

"Good for you," she muttered half-heartedly, then seeing the disappointed look on Ron's face, she felt bad for him – and it really was quite an achievement – so she added, "no, really. That's great! I'm just a little tired, is all."

Ron grinned at her, before going back to tackle his food. Harry, on the other hand, continued the conversation. "Didn't sleep well?" he asked, with sympathy in his voice.

Hermione hesitated before answering. ".. yeah. I slept awfully late," she told him, stifling a yawn.

"I can see that," he replied, raising an eyebrow at her, and soon returned to the usual topics of conversation, while she struggled to stay awake.

The distinct sound of metal against glass chimed throughout the hall, and the steady hum of voices grew to a stop. Ron hastily lowered the two pieces of bacon he had enchanted to fight each other, and Hermione just rolled her eyes in response. He later called this the Brutal Battle of the Bacon, but that's another story.

"As most of you well know, your examinations are just around the corner. For those of you who did _not_ know, I suggest you get yourselves Remembralls. We _have _been reminding you every other day about this," Dumbledore said, chuckling. At this, a few Slytherins snickered, and Neville's face turned a bright red. "No doubt most of you will be studying your time away in the coming weeks," he continued, "and we will see a lot of tired and worn out faces, much like my own." Light laughter erupted in the hall, and was silenced once again by their Headmaster as he cleared his throat. "And so, I have decided to introduce a new class to Hogwarts –," curious mumbling immediately rose from the students, and Hermione's interest was piqued. Draco, on the other hand, groaned and rolled his eyes. They hardly needed _another _sodding subject to study for.

"I do believe that this particular subject will help all of you to relax, learn more about the Muggle world, and have a little bit of fun." _Get _on_ with it! _Hermione felt like screaming. One of the slightly annoying things about their Headmaster was that he tended to drag out suspense for a little _too_ long and _loved_ being dramatic. "This class will start with the seventh-years, and if it works out, introduced to the fifth and sixth years," cries of protest were heard from the younger students, and older ones grinned smugly. "This class!" Dumbledore shouted above the noise, and everyone quietened down, "Will be known as 'Monopoly'."

Hermione's jaw dropped (not literally, of course). Draco choked on the water he'd been drinking to appear like he didn't care (literally, of course). There was silence.

Said silence was suddenly broken when Muggles, or those who had come in contact with them, started talking excitedly, trying to let as many people as possible know that _they_ knew what Monopoly was. Hermione was one of these people. "I _told_ you it was a good game!" she declared in triumph, all lethargy gone, "I _told_ you!"

"Yes, yes, 'Mione. Of course you did," Ron grumbled, and Harry grunted in agreement. They'd already tried and failed at the game, but had never thought that they'd have to think of it ever again.

On the other side of the spectrum, the Slytherins had got word that it was a – what? – _Muggle _game? They sneered at the idea of playing something like it, and most were already going around declaring their hatred for the game they did not know. "Do _you_ know what it is, Draco? Because I sure as _hell_ don't," Blaise sneered in contempt. Of course, all of them were secretly curious.

"I've no idea what the sodding fool is –," Draco started.

"It has also come to my attention that Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger are knowledgeable with the game," Dumbledore said, "and so, I hope you look up to them in regards to this."

" – talking about.. blast." he trailed off, looking around shiftily at the eyes which were now all on him. It wouldn't be long until the muttering started, and Draco had no intention of sticking around to hear it. "Well!" he declared, standing up, "I wouldn't want to be late! Goodbye, my fellow house mates!" And with an overly-cheerful wave, he scurried out of the hall, stopping by the Gryffindor table to drag Hermione ("What the –?" "Shut up." "Okay.") with him. The rest of the school stared at them. Then the muttering started.

Once they were in a fairly secluded place, Draco dropped Hermione's wrist in a flash, while she attempted to yank her arm out of his grasp at the same time, which resulted in her falling backwards and landing on her bottom. She huffed angrily and waited for him to help her up, but when he was still looking up and down the corridor for anyone who might be coming, it became evident that the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Git," she muttered, getting up and evening out her robes.

"Four-eyes," he shot back without thinking.

"Ruddy ferr –,"

"Why are we doing this?" he snapped.

"_You're _asking me?" she returned.

"Nevermind," he snorted, "that's not the problem here."

"There's a problem?" she sounded genuinely surprised, which only served to make Draco even more exasperated.

"_Merlin_, yes there's a problem! People are going to know I play _Monopoly_. With _you_."

".. not real_ly_. They won't know I play with you," she pointed out.

"Granger, we're the heads. We stay in the same dormitory. You're a mudblood. You love Monopoly. Suddenly, I know how to play, too. They're going to put it together faster than you can say 'flying hippogriffs'," he snapped.

"What's so bad about associating with me?" she bit back, then realised what she had said and waved off his incredulous look – though she was slightly stung by it, "Contrary to popular belief, I don't want to be associated with you, either."

"Which is why we have a problem," he said dryly.

"Remind me again what the problem is, Malfoy?" she asked, half just to be difficult, and half to aggravate him. _She _didn't mind as much as he did, and realised this, knowing she could abuse it.

"And I thought you were supposed to be smart," he muttered.

She smiled innocently.

"_They_ are going to associate _you_ with _me_."

"Oh_h_," she mused, as if hearing it for the first time.

"Grow up, Granger," he said, rolling his eyes.

Unfortunately, neither of them came up with any worthy ideas to solve this huge 'problem' (there'd been vehement denials, along with running away, then followed by hexing and/or enchanting the entire school, and that went all the way back to vehement denials) and soon breakfast was over, and they quickly made themselves scarce.

**o**

It did _not _help Hermione's mood that they had potions that day. After practically spending an entire day mulling over the previous test, she'd come to the conclusion that she had failed it. And she did _not _take failing well. The fact that Malfoy had tried to help her cheat – and she'd missed it – also contributed to this sour mood. The cauldron in front of her seemed to be laughing at her guilty face, which she was desperately trying to hide. She had tried to tell herself that she'd done _nothing_ wrong, and that was the _end_ of that, but it hadn't worked, and now she was stuck with the face Crookshanks often had on after Ron complained about Scabbers being missing. Bother.

It did _not_ help even more when Snape swooped into the room (yes, he actually swooped – like a bat, if you must know) with a smirk on his face, and turned to the class. "Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy," he almost looked like he was about to burst due to his smugness, "Headmaster's office, please." Hermione paled in horror, and I'm quite sure Draco did, too, but thanks to his already-pale complexion, it didn't show as obviously. She gathered her books silently, under the eyes of the entire class, and left without even glancing back.

"Hey!" she heard him shout from behind her, and a few quick steps and he was soon walking next to her, "Wait up, Granger. Don't be in such a hurry."

"Don't try acting cool; I'm not in the mood for it. I'm sure you're just as terrified as I am," she said, frustrated at his silly antics.

"Merlin, Hermione Granger? _Terrified_? I wouldn't have thought it possible," he replied instead, earning a dirty look from her.

"Drop. It," she growled, and though she didn't get a response, he didn't say anything else. She walked on in satisfaction.

To their surprise, Dumbledore was talking to the gargoyle as they arrived and didn't seem to notice the pair. After hanging around for a minute or so, Hermione coughed loudly, while Draco rolled his eyes at her. "You could've just said hello," he hissed.

"That would've been rather rude," she replied, before the Headmaster turned to face them.

"Well, well!" he said delightedly, "To whom do I owe this pleasure?"

They exchanged glances. ".. you called us here," Hermione said, a frown of confusion on her face.

"And I cannot use pleasantries?" he asked, looking over his half-moon glasses (he was always looking over them. Makes you wonder what purpose they actually served), "No matter. Violet." He told this to the gargoyle, who turned and let them in, and they were soon in his office.

"Just violet?" asked Hermione curiously, "Not.. violet popsicles? Or something?"

"Just violet," Dumbledore confirmed, looking amused, "It _is_ the last colour of the rainbow, and I quite like that thought, so for now it's just violet." Hermione just nodded, while Draco quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "Anyway, I presume you wish to know why you are here?" They nodded. "I'm sure you must have gleamed the gist of it this morning – and judging by your very dramatic exit, I suppose you weren't too happy about it," he continued. Hermione nodded meekly, while Draco was nodding with renowned vigour. "Too bad. I will not take back what I said," their faces fell, "But Ms Granger, I have been told you like teaching, so I hope you will at least enjoy this task."

"What is 'this task', specifically?" Hermione asked all business.

"Both of you will be the teachers of this new class," Dumbledore said, smiling.

Hermione's jaw dropped (again, not literally), and then formed into a beaming grin. "I can't wait!" she squealed without thinking, and turned to face Draco, who had a look which was a cross between amusement and horror plastered on his face. "Can you?" she asked him hopefully.

He paused for a moment, then relented and sighed.

"I suppose not."

* * *

**an;** SO. While editing this massive thing, I stupidly deleted my author's note. T.T I can hardly remember what was on it, so here's a brief version of it.  
Thank you so much for supporting me up until this stage - for all the reviews, and favs, and alerts and whatevers.

Thanks will be up in a moment when my email isn't being as screwy. D:

Also, I was deciding between switching this genre from 'romance' to 'humor', and I've decided to go through with it. :3


	8. Author's Note

_Late-night Monopoly Meetings: Author's Note?_

* * *

So, the first chapter of Late-night Monopoly Teachings (because I fail at titles) is now up. I know there are a lot of errors in this particular fic, and I _do _intend to go over and edit the whole thing – maybe even do a rewrite – but I'd really like to _finish _the entire story first. xD

I am aware of the fact that;  
- head prefects are seventh-years  
- there're loads of grammatical errors  
- and there isn't any romance in this part of the fic.

If there're any other outstanding issues, please, _please _let me know, either by PM or reviewing.

Anyway, once again, thank you for reading Late-night Monopoly Meetings, and I hope you enjoy the second part of the story!

_Monday, 1st June, 2009;  
So, I went back and edited the entire thing! Well, mainly just grammar and spelling, fixed the seventh-years error, and changed a few words here and there. Never expected to get it done so easily, and that's a pleasant surprise. The plan for a rewrite still holds fast, but like I said before, I'll be finishing it, first. Also, this story's genre will be changed from 'romance' to 'friendship'._

**_Tuesday, 28th July, 2009;_  
**_I went through and edited the entire thing - **again**. :D Solved most of the issues, I think, but I'm sure that there're a few that must've slipped through my grasp._

**-kai.**


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